


My Distraction

by SuperWhoAvengeTrekLock



Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-11-14
Updated: 2013-11-14
Packaged: 2018-01-01 11:18:24
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,017
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1044207
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SuperWhoAvengeTrekLock/pseuds/SuperWhoAvengeTrekLock
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Sherlock finds that John makes a good distraction even if the blonde keeps telling him he's not one.</p>
            </blockquote>





	My Distraction

Sherlock had himself sprawled across the couch like normal. “Bored!” he kept repeating. He had been repeating the sentiment since they had gotten home. They had just come back from solving a case. The first thing Sherlock did was take of his shoes and socks, not bothering to change, sit on the couch, and complain about how easy the case was.

John shook his head and continued his business at his computer. “What would you like me to do about that?” John asked.

 

“Entertain me!”

“I am busy!” John said, gesturing toward the computer.

“So.”

“You are such a bloody child.”

Sherlock thought for a moment, his fingers steepled at his lips. “Did you just compare me to a child? Interesting. How did you come to that conclusion?”

“Well you know that they say; if it looks like a duck and quacks like a duck, it must be a duck.”

“Well now you’ve compared me to a duck. I thought I was a child?”

“You know Sherlock, one day you are going to make me so angry, you are going to be solving your own murder,” he said as he stood. “Sherlock Holmes and the case of how I died,” he mumbled as he moved toward the kitchen.

Sherlock smiled. He hadn’t meant to agitate John, at first, but he wasn’t bored any longer. The tall man got up and walked into the kitchen, John by the kettle, making tea. Sherlock sat at the counter; watching him, a smirk on his face.

“I did not mean to irritate you if I did, John."

John looked back quickly and saw the smirk on the man’s lips. “You knew you were doing it, you git,” he muttered with a smile on his face.

He turned around, bracing his elbows on the counter. “Is there a reason you are going out of your way to bother me or is it just because you are bored and you’ve got nothing on?”

“I’m not trying to bother you, it just so happens that I am. I apologize if I am.”

John’s eyes widened. “Sherlock Holmes, did you just apologize to me? You never do that. You must really be bored if your mind is working so slowly that you apologize for something.”

“Or maybe I am trying to get you to make me a cuppa, ever think of that?”

The other man laughed. “Nothing’s ever stopped you from asking before.”

Sherlock chuckled and looked down for a brief moment before looking back up at his blogger. And that was when John realized it. The apologizing, the trailing behind him into the kitchen, and the flirtatious smiling. “This has nothing to do with the tea, does it?” Sherlock didn’t say anything, he looked down again. “This has everything to do with the fact that you are bored and you want me to entertain you,” he said, all while setting up the tea. He turned back and placed a cup in front of himself and Sherlock.

Sherlock took a long swig of the tea before coming around the island. He put his hands on the man's hips and pressed into him. "You've always been more than... Adequate at distracting me," he said deeply as his left hand trailed up his back and into John's hair. He let it rest there for a moment before he tugged lightly to the side; allowing him access to John's neck. His lips found the exposed area immediately, his hand going back at his hip.

"I'm not a distraction, Sherlock. We've discussed this," he said without conviction. Just because he wanted his lover to realize he wasn't at his disposal didn't mean he wanted him to stop.

"You're right," he mumbled. He spun the doctor around and lifted him on the counter with little force. He moved in so close that their noses touched as Sherlock forced the shorter man's arms around his neck. "You're my distraction," he whispered.

Sherlock surged forward and planted his lips on John's.

The blonde moaned as Sherlock parted his lips with his tongue. Sherlock tasted bitter sweet from the tea leaves and the sugar he had put in the tea. It was a taste he was used to and one he was fond of. This was usually how Sherlock tasted.

John's hands trailed down the detectives chest, popping the buttons of his shirt as he went. When he finished he pushed it off his shoulders so that it pooled at his elbows. His hands ran up and down his stomach and chest. His muscles were small yet defined and John loved that.

Sherlock suddenly broke the kiss, both of them forgetting they needed to breathe. John was already panting and so was the man in front of him. He could hear his shallow intakes of breath as he trailed a line of kisses to the hollow of John's throat.

John's eyes closed as he dug his fingertips and nails into his lovers shoulder and his legs spread involuntarily at the feeling; giving Sherlock more access to the mans body.

Both men could feel themselves growing harder. John's cock strained against the jeans he was wearing. He looked down and saw that Sherlock was also beginning to tent the trousers he had on.

His hands moved downward, not being able to help himself from groping at certain spots. Sherlock didn't seem to mind from the moans he earned and the return of his lips to his own.

"Sh-Sherlock... Bed... Now!" He stuttered through.

Sherlock smirked at the way he could completely unravel the man in front of him.

John didn't know when they moved or that they had moved at all until he was shoved against a wall in the hallway that led to their room.

Sherlock roughly pulled off his shirt and jumper all in one go, his own shirt falling from his arms in the process. His lips were immediately on him, his hands everywhere.

"Ah!" He moaned loudly, always having been a bit vocal.

Sherlock didn't stop his flat mate when he pushed him against the other wall. Sherlock grunted at the forcefulness behind the shove but neither stopped to say anything.

John latched onto one of Sherlock's nipples, making the taller man moan. John made short work of the belt the man wore before unbuttoning the trousers and letting them fall after they got passed his hips.

Sherlock stepped out of them as he moved diagonally, once again pushing John against the wall. He rolled his hips forcefully; their clothes erections connecting.

The detective moaned deep in his throat as he continued the motion over and over. The friction was amazing.

John threw his head back against the wall, the feeling overwhelming him.

Both could feel a thin layer of sweat beginning to form on their bodies. Neither minded the stickiness when they were like this.

"Sherlock," John grunted out.

"Yes, John?" He said with as much confidence as he could but his voice was still a bit shakes from the pleasure he had just been wound up in. While speaking, his hands found the button on John's jeans.

"Need you..."

Sherlock smirked whilst he pulled down John's jeans and boxers all at once, the doctor kicking them both to the side. What John didn't know was that Sherlock needed him just as badly.

Sherlock looked down quickly, noticing how hard his companion was. He was so hard that he was practically leaking, a bead of precome forming on the head of his cock.  

John thread the fingers of one hand through his hair, bringing him down for a forceful kiss that was all tongue and teeth.

Sherlock's hands trailed downwards, resting on the perfect mounds of flesh that was John's arse, pushing him as close as he could get. His fingers found the cleft of his arse and he couldn't stop himself from dipping his fingers in it and nearly teasing John to orgasm.

John busied himself with slipping Sherlock’s boxers past his hips so that they fell to the ground. The taller man kicked them to the side. He grabbed John by the wrist, bringing him into their room. John turned to close the door but when he did, he found himself pressed against the cold cedar.

“Want you…” John mumbled, craning his neck to get a glimpse at the taller man.

Sherlock smirked as as cock rubbed against the cleft of John’s arse. He leaned in, bringing his lips to John’s ear. “Beg, my dear Watson.”

John’s head lolled back, hitting Sherlock’s shoulder. “Please Sherlock. Right here,” he said, grabbing Sherlock by the wrists and leading his hands to rest on his hips. “No more foreplay. Just take me.”

“I don’t want to hurt you—”

“You won’t.”

Sherlock contemplated about whether or not he should take the time and make sure he didn’t hurt his lover. But John understood the consequences and it was his choice. “Don’t move,” he whispered again.

Sherlock moved to the bedside table and fished out the bottle of lubricant that they kept in the drawer. He quickly lathered himself before moving back to John. He spun his blogger around, getting a confused look from the shorter man. He hooked his hands behind John’s knees, pulling him up. John got the hint and crossed his legs behind him, effectively holding him up. “I want to see you,” he said as he positioned him at John’s entrance before slipping inside.

John moaned and threw his head back, hitting the wood a little harder than he would have liked.

Sherlock didn’t move, no matter how much he wanted to. He waited for the signal from John, the man giving him a nod before he started a steady rhythm.

“Don’t be easy,” he panted out.

That was all the encouragement the consulting detective needed before he was quite literally pounding the man against the door, it making a loud noise every time Sherlock thrust into him.

“Ah! Oh, god, Sherlock,” John cried.

The other man chanted John’s name over and over, it not making any sense after about the sixth or seventh time, it was all just word jumble to John.

John suddenly arched his back and dragged his nails along Sherlock’s back as said man hit his prostate.

“Sherlock! Yes!” he moaned loudly.

“John—”

“Me too,” he mumbled before planting his lips on the dark-haired man’s lips. He barely moved away, their lips still touching. “Come for me,” he whispered.

Sherlock groaned at that. He brought his right hand down, to touch John. He wanted John to have as much pleasure as he was going to. He stroked John hard and fast, tossing him off and bringing to the same edge that Sherlock himself was teetering on.

Sherlock gave a few more thrusts and a couple more tugs to John’s cock before they both arched into each other. John’s walls spasmed around Sherlock’s member, milking his orgasm for all that it was worth, coating them white while John did the same to their chests and stomach.

John’s legs immediately fell, not having the strength anymore to keep them up, Sherlock seeming to have the same problem. John somehow managed to drag them both to bed before they collapsed, the orgasm still making their legs feel like jelly.

Sherlock grabbed a towel that they kept by the bed for these occasions and wiped them both down before they tucked any further into bed.

The blonde moved them under the blankets of their bed. He curled into Sherlock.

Sherlock grinned as his head shifted to the side to look at John. “You make a good distraction, John.”

John mustered up the strength to pinch the man in the side. “Oi. How many time’s do I have to tell you; I’m not a distraction!”

Sherlock smiled at his feisty companion. “You’re right,” he muttered as he hooked his fingers under his chin and tilted his head so that he could plant a soft kiss on his lips. “You’re my distraction.”

John let it slip as his eyes fluttered shut. He would yell at him when he woke up.


End file.
